


You Wouldn't Like Me

by WandaRavenBlack



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Chaos, Dark Past, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Magic, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Child Abuse, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Scared Jaskier | Dandelion, Secrets, Truth, Winter At Kaer Morhen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandaRavenBlack/pseuds/WandaRavenBlack
Summary: Geralt takes Jaskier to Kaer Morhen for the winter. There, Vesemir realizes that the bard is not at all who he claims to be. And that, just maybe, not everything is as black and white as he thought.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert & Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir
Comments: 32
Kudos: 308





	1. Glowing Silver

Vesemir heard them as soon as they appeared in the courtyard. Roach came to a stop and he heard two pairs of feet stop next to the horse. Slowly, he put the book he had been reading to the side and walked over to the open window. Down in the courtyard, Geralt was petting Roach’s neck and side. Next to them stood a man that Vesemir had heard much about. Jaskier. Geralt’s bard. He watched as the man looked around with wide eyes, before turning to the witcher again. 

“Um… Geralt?” 

The man grunted and Vesemir wanted to roll his eyes. Geralt was as eloquent as always. But that didn’t seem to discourage the bard. 

“I was just wondering… Is it really alright for me to be here?” 

This time, the witcher turned his head to look at him. 

“Jaskier, you’re the one who wouldn’t stop talking about Kaer Morhen.” 

Jaskier shrugged. 

“I know. But hearing stories is one thing. Being here, with Witchers around me, could end up badly.” 

Geralt raised his eyebrows. 

“Odd. You’re usually advocating that Witchers aren’t bad.” 

Jaskier sighed. 

“It’s not about that. I know Witchers aren’t as bad as people like to make them into. But I also know that I can be extremely annoying and run my mouth. Remember what happened when we first met?” 

Geralt nodded slowly. 

“I punched you.” 

“Exactly. You punched me, in the gut. Hard enough for me to lose my breath and fall over. Sure, I deserved it for calling you a Butcher, but that’s not my point. What happens when I, inevitably, piss one of the others off? What if one of them decides to punch me in the face? Or the throat? I wouldn’t be able to sing!” 

Geralt grunted, turning back to Roach. 

“Blessed silence.” 

Jaskier gave him an annoyed look. 

“We both know that you don’t mean that. Your days would be boring without my singing.” 

Then he shook his head. 

“And don’t try to change the subject. I’m serious here, Geralt. I trust you with my life and my lute, but what about the others?” 

With a heavy sigh, Geralt turned fully towards Jaskier. 

“My brothers won’t hurt you, Jaskier. Every time I ran into them, they talked about how much they wanted to meet you. They’ll tell you so many stories, that you’ll have something new to sing about every evening.” 

Vesemir felt slight surprise. Geralt had never been talkative. This human must really have gotten close to him. Down in the courtyard, Jaskier must’ve realized the same thing, because he smirked. 

“You know what, Geralt? I think this is the longest conversation we’ve had that didn’t involve ‘hmmm’, ‘mhm’, ‘go away’ or ‘shut up, bard’. Someone might even think that you care about me.” 

Geralt just grunted again and turned away from him. 

“Shut up, Bard.” 

Jaskier laughed, and Vesemir felt the heavy mood lift. The young man looked around the yard again and, when he turned towards the part of the building that Vesemir was in, the moon shone right into his eyes. The old witcher almost took a step back when he noticed how they glowed silver for a few seconds. Jaskier turned away, and Vesemir took a deep breath. Impossible. Their kind would never travel with a witcher. None of them would be stupid enough to come to Kaer Morhen. He glanced to the moon and shook his head. No. It had to be a trick of the light. He stayed very still as he waited for Jaskier to turn his way again. After almost an entire minute, the bard did. And, once again, his eyes shone silver as soon as the moonlight hit them. Vesemir felt his hand go to the hilt of his sword, before realizing that he didn’t have it on him. He cursed his own stupidity. He had assumed that staying in Kaer Morhen would be safe. But it wasn’t. Not with one of those so close. He wanted to run out and warn Geralt, but stopped when he heard horse hooves. Lambert and Eskel galloped into the courtyard and stopped not far from the others. Eskel was the first one off the horse and he rushed at Geralt. Seeing him, Jaskier quickly ducked around Geralt and to the other side of Roach, putting the horse behind himself and the witchers. As Eskel tackled Geralt to the ground, Vesemir felt slight relief. So this one was scared of witchers. Good. The more scared he was, the easier it would be to get all the information out of him. Lambert approached the bard from the side, while Jaskier was keeping his eyes on the two wrestling witchers. He crept closer and closer, before suddenly taking a loud step right next to him. Jaskier screamed and jumped to the side, the stench of fear reaching even Vesemir. Seconds later, Geralt was between him and Lambert, glaring at the youngest witcher. 

“What the fuck?” 

Vesemir was shocked when the fear almost disappeared as soon as Geralt was close to the bard. 

“He’s human, remember that.” 

Oh, how wrong he was. Once again, Vesemir wanted to run downstairs, but stopped when Jaskier peaked out from behind Geralt. He seemed to hesitate, before a smile appeared on his face. He walked out from behind the witcher, ignoring the way Geralt tried to grab him. 

“Don’t worry, Geralt. It’s fine. I just got startled.” 

“You got scared.” 

Jaskier frowned. 

“How do you… You smelled it. Right. Damn those witcher senses.” 

He patted Geralt’s arm. 

“As I said, it’s fine. That’s what happens when you get startled.” 

Then he stretched one hand out towards Lambert. 

“I’m Jaskier.” 

The young witcher grabbed his hand carefully. 

“Lambert. I’m… uh… Sorry for startling you.” 

Jaskier shook his head. 

“Do all witchers have trouble speaking? Is that a thing?” 

Eskel laughed at that. 

“No. Those two are just idiots. I’m Eskel, by the way.”

Jaskier looked at him and smiled slightly. 

“Nice meeting you.” 

Vesemir decided that it was enough. This one was good. He had never seen one of them pretending this well when around witchers, and he had to stop this one. Before anything more happened. He hurried down the stairs and out into the courtyard. As soon as he opened the big doors, everyone turned to him. Eskel and Lambert smiled, while the corner of Geralt’s lips twitched. Jaskier tilted his head and glanced at Geralt. Very slowly, Vesemir walked over to them and stretched his hand out. 

“I’m Vesemir.” 

The bard hesitated, before grabbing his hand. 

“Jaskier.” 

Vesemir squeezed his hand tightly and noticed how he held back a wince. Jaskier pulled at his hand and the old witcher let him go. 

“And what is your real name?” 

Jaskier frowned at him, and Vesemir glanced up to the moon. It was slight, and he made sure that the other three didn’t notice. The bard’s eyes widened and the stench of fear filled the air again. Geralt took a step towards them, and the fear lessened slightly. Vesemir waited. There were old spells that could be used on those beings, but you had to have their real name to do that. This one seemed smart enough to not use his real name. He looked on as the young man glanced up to the moon, his eyes holding the silver glow for a few seconds, before he looked at Vesemir again, slight resignation on his face. He knew that he was caught. He was in Kaer Morhen, surrounded by four witchers. Vesemir was ready for anything. A spell thrown at him. A knife. The bard turning around and running. He was even prepared for the man begging for mercy. But what happened next still managed to shock him. The bard looked him straight in the eyes, his voice slightly shaky when he spoke. 

“Julian. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.” 


	2. A Child

Vesemir was stunned. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that he would have one of those beings tell him their real name. Jaskier was keeping his eyes on him, clearly nervous. Most probably noticing the tenseness, Geralt grabbed a bag from the ground and stretched it over to Jaskier. The bard grabbed it, and frowned at him. 

“You’ll stay with me tonight. We’ll get you a room tomorrow.” 

Jaskier nodded, visibly relaxing. Geralt turned to Eskel and pointed at Roach. 

“You’ve got her?” 

Immediately, Jaskier started protesting. 

“I can take care of Roach. I mean, I’m going to live here, I might as well do some…” 

“No. Eskel’s got her.” 

The Witcher nodded and, with one hand on his shoulder, Geralt led Jaskier inside. Lambert followed them quickly, leaving Eskel to take care of the horses. Vesemir looked after the bard, before shaking his head and walking back inside. He waited in the hallway, until he heard two doors close upstairs. Very slowly, he crept upstairs and stopped at the end of the hallway that Geralt’s room was in. He leaned against the wall and listened. There were many sounds coming from the room. Shuffling, Geralt’s grunts, a few bangs and then an annoyed: 

“For fuck’s sake, Jaskier.” 

“What? I’m nervous.” 

Geralt’s frown could be heard in his voice. 

“Why? Was it because of Vesemir?” 

Jaskier sighed heavily and Vesemir heard him sit down. 

“Yeah. I… I don’t like telling people my real name. And… I don’t think he really likes me. I mean, I totally get it. I’m not the nicest person out there. And, as I said before, I knew that the others wouldn’t be very happy to see me. I don’t hold it against him. I just…” 

He started plucking at the strings of his lute, not really trying to make any real melody. 

“I thought it would be different.”

“Hmm.” 

The sound seemed to be encouragement enough to keep the bard talking. 

“I thought he would be… I don’t know. This is not how I imagined him when you told me about him.” 

Geralt sighed heavily again. 

“Jaskier. I need you to be honest with me about something.” 

“Of course.” 

“Are you scared of the others?” 

Silence fell over the room and Vesemir tilted his head. It was clear to him that either Geralt didn’t know what Jaskier was, or he didn’t understand what it meant. It was also clear that he cared about the bard, however much he might be grunting. 

“I… A little bit.” 

Geralt grunted again. 

“Alright. Think of this as any other night. You know I won’t let anything come close while we’re sleeping.” 

“Yeah. I know Mr Big Bad Wolf.” 

Then he laughed and the soft plucking changed into a real melody. 

“I should write a song about this. The White Wolf protecting his humble bard from dangers. Always making sure that he is safe so that he can write more songs about him.” 

“Nothing humble about you, Bard.” 

Jaskier laughed again and started humming a song, while Geralt prepared himself for bed. With quiet steps, Vesemir walked back to the library. He didn’t understand this. How could that thing be so calm around a Witcher? Was it possible that it had Geralt under a spell? No. Their magic was strong, but not enough to keep a Witcher under a spell for so long. He started pacing around the room. He was clearly missing something. Something very important. With a sigh, he walked over to the window and looked out. The full moon was lighting up the courtyard. He saw Eskel walk inside from the stables, a bag slung over his shoulder. Almost ten minutes later, he heard the big door open again and frowned when he saw a lone figure walk towards the burial grounds. Too short to be one of his Witchers. Jaskier. The bard had put on Geralt’s thick cloak and was holding it up slightly to make sure it didn’t drag through the snow. With quick movements, Vesemir fastened the sword to his back and hurried downstairs again. Jaskier was gone when he got to the courtyard, so he steered his steps towards the burial grounds. The night was quiet, most animals seeking shelter from the cold. He rounded the corner and stopped in surprise. Jaskier was kneeling next to one of the gravestones. He frowned when he realized which one it was. Willem. Could this really be…? With slow steps he walked towards the bard, making sure to make enough noise to not startle him. Jaskier looked up from the grave and sighed. 

“You know what I am.” 

Vesemir nodded. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

“If I have to.” 

Jaskier turned back to the grave, a sad look on his face. 

“I hoped he would get somewhere where he would be safe.” 

Vesemir stepped closer to him, but stopped when he noticed that the bard tensed up. 

“You’re the one who let him go?” 

Jaskier nodded. 

“I overheard my mother talking about him. That he wouldn’t give up any information and wasn’t needed. I liked him. He was nice to me. Used to tell me about his adventures. I was just nine at that time. An infant, by our standards. My mother was never motherly, to say the least. Willem was the first person to show me kindness. One day, I asked him what he would do if he managed to get out. He told me that he didn’t expect to get out alive. All he wished for was to die among his own people. I knew about Kear Morhen. So, the day before the execution, I freed him, gave him a horse and told him to go. He wanted to take me with him. Said that I was different. But I refused.” 

He shook his head. 

“Stupid kid. I thought my mother loved me enough to understand why I did it. Clearly I was wrong.” 

Vesemir felt shocked. He remembered Willem coming back. The young Witcher had been on death's doorstep. No amount of potions were able to save him. But, before he died, he managed to talk. He remembered what had been told. The story of a little boy, not scared of a Witcher. A little boy who would bring him food and water and sing him songs. A little boy who freed him from the shackles and gave him a horse. Willem had died, his last words being those of regret that he didn’t take the child with him. With slow steps, Vesemir walked even closer to Jaskier, and then sat down on the ground. The bard frowned at him, but didn’t move. 

“What did your mother do?” 

He understood now that this boy was different. After a quick count, he realized that he was 95 years old. Still a child in the eyes of his people. Jaskier took a deep breath, his entire body shivering slightly. He pulled Geralt’s cloak tighter around himself, going as far as to pull the hood up. And in that moment, Vesemir didn’t see a dangerous murderer. He saw a lost child. Just like so many other children that had been brought to Kaer Morhen before. 

“Jaskier?” 

Blue eyes looked up at him in surprise when he used the nickname. 

“She… She wanted to put me in shackles and have me tortured. In Willem’s place. And she would have the right to do so. I had helped the Witcher escape and was questioning their ideology. She had every right to sentence me to death. But she decided to do something else. Something that was supposed to teach me a lesson. Break me, and make sure that I never disobeyed again. She brought me to the middle of the camp and told me that what was going to happen was because of Witchers. That if I wanted to blame someone, I should blame them. And then she took my magic away.” 

Vesemir’s eyes widened. 

“What?” 

Jaskier curled up even more, pulling the cloak so tightly around himself that it looked like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Tears appeared in his eyes, but he seemed to force himself to keep them back. 

“I spent the next two weeks in a delirious state. I couldn’t keep any food and water down. They could barely keep my fever down. The procedure my mother did, had been done only one time before. The man went insane. When I finally got better, I hated my mother more than anything. A few nights later, I grabbed my lute and ran. It wasn’t easy. I was just nine at the time. A travelling troupe found me in the woods and let me go with them. When they asked for my name I didn’t want to tell them. I knew about the spell. I knew what they could do if they knew it. They didn’t push. Let me go along with them, calling me Dandelion. I stayed with them until I was 15. Then I took off on my own. I read about jaskiers in an old book about flowers and decided that I liked that name. That’s how I became Jaskier.” 

The old Witcher couldn’t believe this. How could a mother do that to her own child? Just nine years old, having his magic ripped away from him. Just for helping a Witcher. 

“You should hate us.” 

Jaskier shook his head. 

“No. My mother is the one who did this to me. Not Witchers. If anything, she managed to make me like you even more. She was never a good mother. The other children in our camp hated me, because I learned magic much faster than them. Because I was a natural at it. The adults thought I was a nuisance and were only polite because of my mother. The first person to be nice to me was Willem. A Witcher.” 

He shook slightly again and Vesemir realized that, even though he was bundled up in the cloak, he must be freezing. Once again keeping his movements slow, he stood up and stretched his hand out to Jaskier. Blue eyes looked up to him. 

“Why?” 

“I’m realizing that I can’t judge you for what your people have done to us. Just as you don’t seem to judge us for what Witchers have done to your people.” 

Hesitantly, Jaskier grabbed his hand and let him pull him to his feet. They looked at each other for a few seconds, before they both started heading inside. Vesemir was rethinking everything he knew. Everything he had been taught. As they got closer to the castle, Jaskier suddenly stopped, nervousness rolling off him in waves. As Vesemir looked ahead, he noticed the other three Witchers come out from where they had been hiding behind a stone wall. The looks on their faces made it clear to him that they had heard the entire conversation. Eskel was the first one to find his voice. 

“Geralt noticed that Jaskier was gone and asked us to help him search. We saw you go towards the burial grounds with your sword and decided to follow.” 

Meanwhile, Jaskier was keeping his eyes on Geralt. The Witcher was wearing an unreadable expression. 

“Geralt?” 

Jaskier’s voice was slightly shaky and Vesemir almost shook his head. A child indeed. Without a sound, Geralt turned around and stalked away. And the smell of tears filled the air. Before either of the Witchers could react, Jaskier suddenly took off running, quiet sobs filling the night. Vesemir sighed heavily. He noticed Eskel wanting to go after Jaskier, and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let’s find Geralt. I feel like I owe you three an explanation as to what is going on here. Jaskier will be fine. He needs some time to collect himself.” 

The two young Witchers looked at him with hesitancy, before nodding and following him inside the castle again. 


	3. To Protect You

They found Geralt in the library, pacing around. As soon as they came inside, he sent Vesemir a glare. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that he wasn’t human?” 

Vesemir sighed heavily. 

“Because I didn’t know what to think of him.” 

And, seeing the looks he got from the other Witchers, he pointed towards the armchairs, sitting down himself. He waited until the others had sat down, before he started talking. 

“Jaskier’s kind is very old. They existed even before Witchers. Their kind ages extremely slowly, stopping at random times, until they themselves decide that it’s time to keep aging. They can’t die of old age, but they can make themselves look old. Many of them take pride in their youthful looks and decide to stop aging at around 25. The age Jaskier seems to have stopped at. Back in the day, before Witchers, their kind lived in peace with the humans. They were called by many names, but the more popular one was Immortals. All of them have magic, so they were often asked to live with a family to provide them protection for generations. There was peace. Until the Witchers started hunting.” 

He leaned back in his armchair, the other three looking at him with poorly veiled curiosity. Even Geralt looked less like a deadly Witcher and more like a schoolboy, waiting to hear the rest of an interesting story. 

“The Witchers made humans realize that there were bad forms of magic. That there were protectors in the world that would take care of the monsters for them. That they didn’t need to keep a monster under their roof, just to stay protected. They started to throw out the Immortals. Some of them had been with the families through many generations. But it didn’t matter. They were classed as dangerous and had to leave. Many of them accepted this turn of events. I’m guessing that they knew the good life wasn’t going to last forever. They moved into camps in the woods, always making sure to be close to the human’s town, to be able to help them if the need arose. And then, one day, five Immortals decided to take revenge on some of the humans that had thrown them out. The humans found out about it, and tried to put up a fight. It ended with fifty-eight humans dead, and one Immortal decapitated. The mayor of the town was in rage. He called upon the Witchers to help. In the beginning, they were hesitant. The Witchers and the Immortals had a shaky agreement between them, to never wage war upon each other. Both sides knew that the losses of that kind of war would be catastrophic. But the Witchers who were called to the town, were moved by the crying of widows and children. They decided to help. Armed and ready they went into the woods, prepared to find a few rogue Immortals. Instead, they walked into a big camp. A week later, their school received their heads in a chest. The Witchers couldn’t let that slide. What happened to the humans had been tragic, yes, but they had made their own bed. They had made their own enemies. There was no real reason to get involved. The death of Witchers was a different thing. That day, a silent war was declared. Any Witcher found and captured by the Immortals, could only expect to get tortured and killed in the most painful way. The same went for any Immortal who was caught by Witchers. Through time and generations of Witchers, the information faded away, until your generation. You were never told about the Immortals, simply because many thought they had gone away to safer lands. That they had left. I never expected to see one walz into Kaer Morhen with a Witcher next to him.” 

Everyone turned to Geralt. The man shook his head. 

“I had no idea that he wasn’t human. He never told me.” 

There was a slight shift in his voice and Vesemir, who had known him since he was a child, understood that it was hurt that Geralt was refusing to show. 

“Geralt. You heard what me and Jaskier talked about. He has always been different from his people. But the fact remains that he is an Immortal. An Immortal without his magic, who decided to travel around with a Witcher. He had no way of knowing that your generation hadn’t been taught about his kind. For all he knew, you would torture and kill him once you found out. And, without his magic, he is no stronger than a human. Of course, he doesn’t age. He has his people’s ability to see in the dark. He is strongly connected to nature. But if you had tried to attack and capture him, he wouldn’t have any means to protect himself. And yet, he decided to stay with you. Follow you around and sing your praises, knowing that any second, you could turn on him.” 

Very slowly, Geralt shook his head. 

“He knew I wouldn’t. Stupid fool trusts me way too much to believe that I would cause him any harm. He might be the only person I’ve ever met, who has never been afraid of me. Even me on potions.” 

Vesemir gave him a calculating look. 

“He trusts you. Why can’t you trust him?” 

“He lied to me.” 

“Only to protect you.” 

Eskel and Lambert almost jumped, while Geralt’s eyes narrowed. Vesemir smiled. He had noticed Jaskier standing in the doorway, his eyes red from crying and Geralt’s cloak pulled tightly around him. But the other three Witchers had seemed too captivated by his tale to even notice that another person had appeared in the room. Jaskier smiled apologetically. 

“Sorry. I… My kind can be soundless when we want to.” 

That made even Vesemir surprised. He didn’t know that. Geralt seemed to collect himself the quickest. 

“What do you mean?” 

Jaskier rolled his eyes and slowly stepped into the room. Vesemir noticed how he stayed close to the wall as he slowly made his way towards him. He stopped close to his chair, making sure that both Vesemir and Geralt were between him and the other two Witchers. 

“My kind doesn’t group together anymore. The wars with the Witchers made them realize that they had bigger chances of staying out of their way if they stayed in small gatherings. Two or three families at most. My mother’s camp was the biggest that still exists. She is sort of like royalty among our people. That’s how she got away with taking my magic from me. No one would speak out against her. She had this crazy idea that she would win the war one day. Gather all the Immortals in one place and march against the last Witchers. Kill them all. When I started travelling with you, I realized that I was putting you in danger. If anyone ever figured out that you were travelling with an Immortal, you would make many enemies. The Immortals would think that you held me as your servant, bound to you. The Witchers might think that you are betraying them by not killing me. As long as you thought I was a human, as long as you behaved as if I was nothing more than that, you were safe.” 

Geralt just stared at him, so he continued. This time, there was almost desperation in his voice. 

“Geralt, you’re my only friend. The only family I have. I’m an Immortal who trusts Witchers more than my own kind. Because of the curse, I know that eventually everyone around me will die, and I will be left alone. That’s why I never made friends with humans.” 

Lambert frowned. 

“Curse? Vesemir didn’t say anything about any curses.” 

The old Witcher shook his head.

“I didn’t know about a curse.” 

Jaskier sighed. 

“No. You wouldn’t. That was before your time. Even before the Witchers existed. One of the Immortals pissed off a seriously strong sorceress. Killed her entire family. In her anger, she cursed all the Immortals. Said that, unless killed, we were bound to live to the end of humanity and a hundred years more. That’s why my kind is called the Immortals. All of us will one day be left alone.” 

He turned to Geralt again. 

“I know I kept the truth from you. But I only did it because I didn’t want to lose the only family I had.” 

When Geralt still didn’t say anything, the bard lowered his head. 

“I understand.” 

He looked at Vesemir with hesitation in his eyes. 

“Can I leave?” 

The old man frowned. 

“What?” 

“You know my name. I would like to know if I’m allowed to leave, or if there is something you’d like to know before I go. I’d rather do this as painlessly as possible.” 

Vesemir shook his head. 

“I won’t use your name against you, Jaskier. I can’t say I trust your kind but, in honor of Willem, I won’t force you to do anything. If you wish to leave, you’re free to go.” 

Jaskier nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. Behind it, Vesemir could see sadness and pain. 

“Thank you.” 

He threw a last look at Geralt, before leaving the room. They heard his steps heading towards the front door again and then the door opening and closing. Everyone in the room turned to Geralt. He just stared at the floor for a few seconds, before looking up. 

“Fuck.” 

And, with that, he hurried out of the room. The front door slammed shut shortly after. 


End file.
